|
Thoroughly Monday today. I woke later
than recommended after a not-sleepless night of weird dreamoids,
the last of which launched me cock-eyed and unreal into my day.
Outside the faculty room Brian gets my attention. I'm out of
it. "Pretty tough commute this morning?" jests he of
the really bad one. "You bet - the toughest." So I
stumble down to homeroom after a close encounter with my old
buddy Bright Aluminum Centerpost at the end of the main hall,
and then it's period B - Sophomores.
It's a Writing Day. Time for a freewrite,
which I have recently dubbed PowerWrite - ten minutes of uninterrupted
scribbling. Here's mine:
this morning we never wake up we
just pretend to be a part of the world going on but we are still
caught in the wild dream of getting sliced up taken apart there
on the conveyor belt every part of me being pulled out disassembled
and there I am watching it all going through this process and
thinking well here I am and see it doesn't hurt at all but it
is kind of weird weird and wild too fast too much quick-cutting
you get dizzy in your dream and wake up dizzy and there's the
cat right beside you asleep and its too dark to see the clock
but you stare at the black ceiling remembering how vividly you
were coming apart at the hands of the others on the disassembly
line I'll remember this you tell yourself I'll remember this
unusual disorienting dream but now I find it fading away - except
I remember one of their faces it was a dirty angular sad vaguely
Asian face looking down at me in this condition
Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe
big creepy dreams are like earthquakes, the product of accumulated
tension suddenly released, suddenly all there instantly, defying
language and memory. Do you remember the Wizard of Oz? That scene
with the Scarecrow being re-stuffed on the conveyor belt? Or
his description of how the flying monkeys tore him apart? "That's
me all over." Well, my dream wasn't like that. It was darker,
like some NIN video I've never seen.
Maybe it was that second cup of coffee
last night. Maybe it was that novel. I like to read a bit before
lights out, so I picked up this YA book called When
Zachary Beaver Came to Town. Simple tale of a smalltown
boy's tough sweet sad summer. I didn't intend to finish it last
night, but it kept me going even after I started to fade. A very
good book to do that. So I was up till a bit after midnight and
then The Tallis Scholars chanted me to dreamland.
When I woke up I remember thinking
that the cat was dreaming too because she was out cold and her
paws were doing this little kittycat dream thing and she was
squeaking. Maybe she was still stuck on that conveyor belt.
|